Disclaimer

I do not own any characters created by Christopher Paolini, except for any OC's. Full credit goes to him for his amazing Inheritance Cycle!

Chapter One – Thrulghar

A gentle breeze blew easterly across the expansive grassland, the long blades of grass rippling back and forth almost as if they were being forced to submit by an invisible pressure. It was growing late, a fact dictated by the disappearance of the sun below a distant rise. The shadows of night had begun to fall across all that was present, stretching their being long across the ground.

Thrulghar slowed to a stop, the muscles in his mighty leg's pulled taut after six days of laborious travel. The countryside was quiet; the only sounds available to him were that of the rustling grass and the breeze pushing its way through the leaves of lone prairie trees. A faint orange glow had coated itself upon everything, the dying testament of golden sunlight. Expelling stale air from his thick piggish nostrils, Thrulghar breathed the fresh air in deeply, his chest expanding to its fullest capacity. No more distance would be covered tonight, he decided. A full nights rest would give his body the time it needed to recuperate, repairing his strained muscles and weary feet.

Those who would lay eyes upon Thrulghar would take no time in noticing his hulking size and intimidating build. For Thrulghar was no human, rather Kull instead. Standing an inch over eight feet, Thrulghar was a fearsome sight to behold. Taking pride of place atop his ears grew a pair of gnarled, twisted horns. His eyes were a pit of swirling yellow, unsettling to behold. The bulk that was present in both of his arms presented itself in the form of muscles larger than that of any human warrior. Thrulghar's torso was bare, his muscular chest exposed for all to see. Around his loins he wore an animal hide waist cloth fashioned from the skinned fur of an irate Urzhad. The ferocious cave bear had fallen under his own fist, the vivid memory of his fight with the creature ever present in the forefront of his mind.

As a whole, the Kull appeared immovable to say the least. No man could stand against him in combat and hope to best him. However this was not his wish. Unlike the days gone by when the Urgralgra would seek nothing but war with the human race, they now observed peace with the humans, along with the other races of Alagaesia. Thrulghar and his fellow tribesman had been granted the most precious gift they could hope to receive. The permission of their entry into the Dragon Riders pact had pleased his people greatly, so much so that the dragons had become like deities to them.

The journey he had embarked upon had indeed been a long one, perhaps the longest he had ever undertaken by himself. There was nought that could dampen his spirit, for Thrulghar had almost reached his destination. The hallowed walls of Ilirea, or so the no horns called it. To him and his people the city still contained much darkness within its walls, having been the slaughter ground for so many of his Bolvek brethren.

There was little light left of the day and Thrulghar knew that a makeshift camp would serve him well to make the night less uncomfortable. Glancing around, Thrulghar spotted the nearest oak tree and made his way over to it, his body protesting with every movement. The ground beneath the aging oak tree was littered with dried leaves and branches. The overgrown Urgal bent his back and scooped a handful of branches together. Taking a step back from the tree, he began to arrange the tinder in such a fashion that would warrant the ignition of a successful campfire. Packing the base of the 'would be' campfire with crackling leaves; Thrulghar removed his tanned leather rucksack from his shoulders and placed it on the ground. Undoing the cord that held it closed, Thrulghar rummaged through his few possessions until he found what he was looking for.

From the bag, Thrulghar withdrew his flint and steel. Aiming the flint at his campfire, he struck the two components together. As the two collided, a multitude of sparks sprang into being, faltering on the edge of a stick before fizzling out. Thrulghar grunted with frustration. He tried again, this time achieving a desirable result. The leaves at the base of the campfire smouldered and caught fire, quickly spreading to neighboring foliage. In turn the flame spread along the sticks until the entirety of the campfire was ablaze, providing Thrulghar's body with warmth. Although the heat was more of a comfort than a necessity, he welcomed it nonetheless.

Satisfied with his efforts, Thrulghar then turned his attention to arranging something moderately comfortable to sleep on. He looked around, raising a rough hand to his unshaven chin. Whilst he thought, Thrulghar ran a finger over the lower canine teeth that had grown in such a fashion as to protrude above his bottom lip. Suddenly he had an idea. Reaching up, Thrulghar grasped a low hanging branch with his hands, pulling it down before snapping it off from the tree. He then proceeded to run his hand along the shaft of the branch, stripping it of its still green leaves. After repeating the process several more times, Thrulghar felt that he had gathered a sufficient amount of leaves.

The leaves he placed a foot from the fire, close enough to receive its warmth yet not so close that they would catch fire during the night. Reaching into his rucksack once again, Thrulghar removed a piece of cloth barely large enough to cover his makeshift pillow of leaves. Testing it out, he laid his head down upon the vegetation. It was lumpy but still soft. If anything it would give him a decent night's sleep.

A gruff sigh escaped him as he sat back up, pivoting to face the crackling fire. He found his consciousness transfixed on the flickering flames, as they snaked through the surrounding blackness to give light. Fire had always fascinated him, so mesmerizing yet dangerous on the same plane. With a blink Thrulghar managed to pull his focus away from the campfire and redirect it back to the task at hand. This moon was the sixth that had watched over him, and since leaving his village, many leagues had disappeared beneath his feet. In the far reaches of the north, situated on the shores of the Fläm Lake, his village lay nestled against the eastern boundaries of the Spine. After the fall of the human King, his tribe had been able to salvage the remnants of their lifestyle and begin to rebuild in the remotest areas of the Spine. He was happy there, the mountains were full of strange and fearsome creatures, but none quite like him.

For now that would be a distant thought. All of Thrulghar's focus had to be concentrated on one thing. The day was drawing ever closer where he would be confronted with the sacred eggs of the Flametongues, and his inner being investigated scrupulously. Everything about the majestic dragons made Thrulghar's insides swirl with amazement. Such prowess and grace preceded their mastery of the skies. As an Urgralgra, Thrulghar's people had been out casted for far too long. However, this was to be no more for every fibre within him longed to be bonded with a Dragon of his own, he only hoped that this desire was enough. He was so close.

The stars had appeared overhead in the sky. Gaps in the tree above permitted them to twinkle within his view. Lying on his back, Thrulghar traced the patterns of stars with his eyes, joining their incandescent masses together. Appearing before him were the constellations mapped out by his ancestors, telling the stories of his past. Thrulghar closed his eyes, his breathing a steady rhythm as his chest rose and fell. Before long the giant Kull was sound asleep, a periodic snore leaving his mouth. Around him the night continued as the moon drifted steadily across the sky.

The midday sun burnt bright, high in the sky. Without the cover of clouds to lessen the suns intensity, the rays bored into Fírnen's muscular body and made every movement require twice the amount of energy that it should. His whole being ached with exhaustion, the green dragon had flown with its rider from the Dwarven city of Tronjheim with next to no rest. This was of little concern however; both he and Arya had a duty and the privilege of ferrying the remaining dragon eggs between the cities of Alagaesia. The time of the year was upon them where the eggs were required in Ileria for the egg hatching ceremonies. As such the dragon and rider had spent the last three weeks travelling across lush expansive plains and sweltering deserts.

With each beat of Fírnen's massive emerald wings their destination grew closer, a fact that both he and Arya were blissfully aware of. It had been 3 days since either Fírnen's or Arya had had a proper meal and hunger tore at them both ravenously but neither of them dared to stop for a break with their precious cargo. Still a day's hard ride from their destination, Fírnen and Arya would need to make camp for the night at sunset and rise before dawn in order to make it in time for the egg hatching ceremony.

Hours passed and yet the heat continued, even as the sun began to dip towards the horizon. The prospect of a good meal and a warm fire motivated Arya greatly. The sooner they were able to make camp, the sooner she and Fírnen might find a way in which to abate their hunger with the little remaining light.

You will find nothing here but scaly lizards and hopping balls of fur here, nothing substantial enough to satisfy me for more than a few minutes, Fírnen spoke to Arya via their mental connection, his deep voice radiating in her mind.

You are forgetting that with magic you can make something grow much larger than it ought to in nature, Arya calmly replied, we can make camp down by those acacia's; I will draw the moisture out and fill our water skins.

And what of our meal? Fírnen was beginning to sound impatient.

We will find some desert hare's and I will enhance them magically so that they might sustain you.

Fírnen angled his massive bulk east and began his descent towards the would be camp. As soon as his hulking form descended into the shadow cast by the thorny trees, his body temperature began to drop steadily. Landing with a thud, he blinked several times in an attempt to protect his eyes from the plume of sand that he had unintentionally created.

Arya loosened he straps of Firnen's saddle and slid down his side, hitting the ground harder than she intended, jarring her knee.

"Ahh!" she grimaced as a sharp pain shot up through her leg.

Be careful Arya, we don't need you to have a broken leg for the rest of this trip.

"I'm fine!" she snapped, striding off in the direction of the nearest tree and began chanting in the ancient language.

In minutes she returned with three bulging water skins and emptied the contents of one of them into Fírnen's mouth. Next, she began gathering fallen branches and leaves from the trees and heaping them in the centre of their camp so that they could cook the meal that Arya was about to catch. Once she was satisfied with her effort, Arya limped back to Fírnen who was now lazing under the acacia tree closest to where they had landed. Now for dinner. Arya said to herself mentally, opening her mind and searching for any other living beings. The area around her felt desolate and dead, the only living creatures for miles were a monitor lizard and a family of desert hare, in their burrow, 10 feet below where she was standing.

Preparing herself, Arya walked around the edge of the camp until she had located the entrance of the burrow. Raising her palm so that the gedwëy ignasia was above the burrow, Arya spoke words of power, drawing the hare from its hiding place.

The small undernourished animal was struggling furiously as it was pulled from the burrow by magic. Arya felt a pang of guilt for what she was about to do, however she knew Fírnen needed the sustenance in order to continue. With the hare suspended just above the ground, the elf closed her eyes and spoke the words, setja mikill. Fírnen watched from beneath the tree as the tiny fur ball began to increase rapidly in size before his eyes. The hare doubled, then tripled its original size and then continued to grow. After almost five minutes of maintaining the spell, Arya released the flow of magic and observed the enhanced desert hare.

The creature now stood as tall as her, and was about the size of a cow. She almost laughed; the hare looked very out of place, quivering where it stood. Fírnen pushed himself to his feet, tongue licking at the edges of his mouth as he eyed the hare. Stand back little one, things may get messy, Fírnen said, readying himself for a meal.

Arya stepped away from the hare, watching as it desperately tried to flee back down into its burrow. Fírnen crouched slightly before launching himself at the hare. Arya turned and faced the horizon as she heard from behind her the sound of Fírnen dispatching of the hare. As an elf, death did not come easy, not now, not ever. Alas it was a part of life, one she had experience first-hand.

Turning towards the campfire she had lit, Arya retrieved her bed roll from Fírnen's saddle bags and laid it out beside the tree. The last rays of the sun dipped behind the sandy hills and the beginnings of darkness fell over the desert. She looked up at the stars that were already shining out of the blackness. Somewhere, whether or not they were already in Ileria or not, the candidates chosen by their races were eagerly anticipating the ceremony, perhaps almost as much as she was. The thought excited her greatly; she wanted nothing more than to see the eggs hatch tomorrow.

Fírnen cleaned the blood from his jowls with his rough tongue. Turning his hulking head towards Arya, he began to walk over to her. His muscles rippled with each step, his tail flicking gently behind him. Fírnen surveyed the ground beside the tree, rotating his body to face in the same direction as the elf beside him. Arya felt the heat from Fírnen's body as he lay beside her. Reaching out, she hand her hand along the underside of his scaly belly. The bond between her and Fírnen had grown exponentially over the past ten years, now they were one. Neither of them spoke, reluctant to disturb the peace that night had brought with it. Instead, Fírnen extended a translucent emerald wing over her, blanketing Arya in a membrane of warmth. The elven queen closed her eyes and allowed herself to enter her waking dreams, eager for tomorrow to come.

Morning brought with it sights of dew covered countryside and endless blue skies. Thrulghar groaned as he rolled onto his side. In the tree above, a bird was chattering away with merriment, unaware of Thrulghar trying to sleep below. He opened one eye and growled, that bird is either brave or very stupid, he said to himself.

Outstretching a hand, Thrulghar pushed himself into a sitting position before getting to his feet. His body protested as the realisation of just how tired his muscles were, hit him. Even a full night's sleep did little to quell his aching muscles. The Kull stretched both arms above his head. A new day had come and it was time to put the camp site behind him and head towards his destination.

During the night, the fire had smouldered and gone out leaving only the charred coals behind. Thrulghar took from the ground the cloth on his pillow and retrieved his ruck sack from beside the tree and slung it across his back. The leather straps that held the sack in place wore into the same places that they had for the past week. He shrugged his shoulders and tried to alleviate the annoying feeling that sack created.

Glancing around, Thrulghar made sure he had not left any belongings. When he was sure he had everything, he set his sights for the distant hills. Confident that he would reach Ileria by sundown, Thrulghar put one foot in front of the other and loped towards the hills. If the chance arose, he would replenish his water. There was a good chance that a stream would be running through the hills. He hoped so at least. His lips were parched; the last of his water had been consumed a day earlier.

The scenery slipped past Thrulghar as he strode lazily. The perpetual motion of walking had become somewhat tedious to the Kull. Whenever he was walking, the day seemed to drag on forever. Everything looked the same, just one hill after another and not a soul in sight.

Overhead the sun was nearing its apex. Harsh rays forced Thrulghar to squint in order to keep his eyes open. Looking ahead through the midday heat, Thrulghar noticed the ascent in the gradient as he reached the foothills. The grass was slightly longer in length around the base of the hills and everything was greener. It was apparent that a water source of some sort was close by. Thrulghar climbed to the top of the rise, surveying the surrounding knolls. Off to his right, a small rivulet was feeding into a pond. The water lying in the pond was stagnant however the running stream would be safe to drink.

Thrulghar made his way down the rise and over to the pond. The trickling water had never looked so appealing. Removing his water skin, Thrulghar un-stoppered it and allowed the liquid to filter into the leather pouch. Upon filling it, he stowed it away before forming a bowl shape with both hands. He then proceeded to scoop handfuls of water from the stream to his mouth, feeling the cool water rejuvenate him. Getting back to his feet, Thrulghar ran the back of his hand across his brutish mouth, removing the water droplets that had escaped his lips.

With the day half gone, Thrulghar was becoming somewhat anxious. The ceremony was tonight and he needed to be there. Looking back towards the way he was to travel, Thrulghar clenched his jaw. There would be no more rest until he had reached Ilirea. Thrulghar strode off once more, climbing hill after hill, sprinting down the reverse side. The Kull was growing impatient, as all Kull did. Picking up the speed, he began to jog steadily; doubling the distance he was covering. The sun seemed to be challenging him to go faster. Before long, Thrulghar was sprinting. He knew he could maintain the pace until he reached the city, but he would be exceedingly tired by the end. It needed to be done.

The grass folded under foot, crushing beneath his weight. The trees slipped by and Thrulghar remained focused. His chin was pointing slightly down, the horns on his head dragging his head down, the more exhausted he became. Shadows were becoming longer and the he knew he was close. From behind the upcoming rise loomed towering walls of stone. They seemed to appear from nowhere. A crooked grin took up place on his thickset face. Beyond those walls was Ileria, the place where everything could change if one was lucky enough.

Thrulghar topped the last rise and stood in awe of the walls. Much had changed since his last visit, of that he was certain. With the journey at his back, Thrulghar descended the hill and made his way towards the city gates. He hoped that luck was with him today.

Glossary:

setja mikill - grow large

That's chapter one! Hope you all enjoyed reading it, if you could leave some reviews that would be great :D I look forward to reading all suggestions for upcoming chapters, if you have any, feel free to add me on Skype: justaydin.

Thanks :P